


Broken Radio

by ryukoishida



Series: On my Heartbeat Radio [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M, Prequel, eventually MaRinKa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:18:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2088510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukoishida/pseuds/ryukoishida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the night before the finals for the songwriting competition, and Haruka can’t fall asleep. As usual, he gives Makoto a call, hoping his voice can calm the storm in his heart that’s caused by Rin’s return from a week ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Radio

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in Haruka and Makoto’s final year of high school, so it’s going to be sort of a prequel thing that goes before my main story.

            When his cell-phone buzzes with Billy Joel’s “Uptown Girl” at 1:27 in the morning, Makoto Tachibana knows, without checking the caller id, that it’s his best friend on the other end, being tormented by another sleepless night.

 

            Ever since they realize about a week ago that their childhood friend from elementary school has returned to Japan after five years of studying abroad in Berlin, Germany, those restless nights flowing with unanswered questions circling both youngsters’ minds have became more often.

 

            Rin Matsuoka had only been transferred to their school for about a year, yet days spent in the club room or at one of their houses playing around with their instruments and voices cemented the friendship between the three boys faster than the blooming of cherry blossoms, though Haruka and Rin always had their different opinions when it came to the genres they wanted to explore further.

 

            Despite their constant bicker, however, the three of them were thick as thieves, so when Rin announced towards the end of that same school year that he was moving to Germany to study music at a specialized academy, to say that Haruka and Makoto were surprised was a bit of an understatement.

 

            After the initial shock, Haruka begrudgingly told him to “practice hard and don’t you dare slack off” while Makoto held Rin’s slim body against his taller stature, saying softly, “just remember to keep in touch with us.” Rin had nodded and had to turn away lest the other two saw the tears that were threatening to fall.

 

            At the airport, Makoto handed the red-haired boy a jewel case with a CD labelled “For Rin” and said, “Listen to it when you get on the flight?”

 

“I will,” he promised with a grin, and then he glanced over to Haruka’s quiet figure standing in the shadow of Makoto. “Haru.”

 

            “What?”

 

            “The next time we see each other, I’ll show you a sight you’ve never seen before.” His toothy smile was bright with challenge and sincerity.

 

            “Whatever.” Haruka crossed his arms in front of his chest, head turned to the side.

 

            Rin merely chuckled before he waved a final goodbye to his best friends and entered the gate.

 

            For the first few months, there were letters exchanged frequently, but as seasons changed from dazzling summer to one of the bitterest winters ever recorded, the letters trickled to a standstill.

 

            The silence that echoed from across the ocean was strange and scary.

 

            Haruka seemed unperturbed, even as young as he was back then, even if there were things he didn’t understand, or didn’t care to. Adults always told him that he had a one-track mind as if that was a bad thing: music was the one element he could fall back on if everything else failed, and so when only the cruel silence resonated back from the distant country, he didn’t appear to be upset, nor did he talk to anyone about how he was feeling – not even to Makoto.

 

            But then, ever since they had learned to play their instruments – Haruka with his bass and Makoto with his acoustic guitar – enough to compose simple yet meaningful melodies that are purely their own, the two best friends could carry a conversation using just musical notes.

 

            So even when Haruka remained seemingly stoic on the outside, azure eyes as focused as they had always been and mouth firmly shut so that his voice wouldn’t be able to betray his emotions, the tunes he played in those days were winding with a wavering sorrow and disorder, the occasional growling angry chords clashing like rusted swords – the resulting melody chaotic but not entirely unpleasant to the ears; these disharmonies represented the storm that stubbornly dwelled in his heart.

 

            Makoto, on the other hand, was worried about the lack of correspondence and it was showing on the frowns of his slanting brows though Haruka would never comment on it. Everyday, he would check the mailbox only to be met with disappointment day after day; that didn’t stop the brunet from writing letters to him regardless.

 

            Once a week, he would drop the envelope with the German address into the postal box, a glimmer of hope befitted of a sixth grader setting a bright green in his eyes. Yet even the most optimistic of children eventually felt the pressure of reality: he was not writing back.

 

            It wasn’t just a matter of a lost piece of mail or the excuse of having a busy schedule anymore; deep down in their hearts, both Haruka and Makoto knew that their friend had stopped writing on purpose, and as for the reason of this abrupt silence, the two boys could only guess.

 

            So they chose to move on. What else could two twelve-year-olds do in this situation?

 

            Then, last Friday happened.

 

            The backstage of Suzuki Performance Centre was like a maze of beehive where high school students and event staff were running into and meandering around each other, scrambling to get everything set up for the upcoming acts. All thirty entrants in the prefecture who had passed the first and second rounds of elimination were gathered here for the last elimination round of the songwriting contest that will take place in a week’s time, one of the many events of the Youth Music Festival, which is a series of workshops and competitions tailored to young, aspiring musicians.

 

            In the brightly-lit hallway, where there were significantly less activity as only a handful of staff were moving equipment in and out of the theatre, and several groups of students were quietly rehearsing on their unplugged instruments or listening to something on their iPods to calm their nerves, lips mouthing lyrics mutely and fingers tapping against thighs, the six members of Cliff Bird were gathered in a corner, discussing over some last minute changes of the song they were going to play in front of a panel of five judges.

 

            They had to miss their afternoon classes to get here, and they didn’t have time to change, unlike some of the groups they had already seen that were doused in sparkling and flashy outfits; the black and white with the occasional splashes of green or red of their uniforms at least made them stand out in more ways than one.

 

            It didn’t take long for Makoto, who was in the middle of talking to Nagisa about the drum break the blond-haired boy was supposed to do for the track, to notice that Haruka’s focus had shifted elsewhere, his dark blue eyes widened at the sight somewhere behind Makoto – surprise and then a slight lift of brow that edged towards anger coloured his cheeks even paler under the fluorescence of the white lights.

 

            Rei and Nagisa, sensing their band leader’s distracted silence as well, looked in the same direction but there was only confusion on their faces. Gou, however, who still had her battered violin under her chin when she finally lifted her gaze from the music sheets on the ground and promptly stopped mid-note, mouth hanging open for a second before she let out an excited squeak, which was followed by an enthusiastic wave and a call of “onii-chan!”

 

            “Ah, Gou.” That voice he thought he wouldn’t hear again, which was familiar in that it still held a gentle but firm tenor from five years ago but different in that it had deepened from the boyish pitch to a more mature and orotund sound, sent small tremors all over his body, and when Makoto stared down to see his own hands shaking uncontrollably, he gathered them tightly into fists, teeth biting into his lower lip painful enough to draw blood.

 

            He was the last one to turn around, and the sight of Rin Matsuoka – burgundy hair still bright as flames, blazing red eyes glaring in their general direction, lips pursed in obvious distaste, and a slim electric bass slung against his back – made the last several years’ ocean of silence seemed to melt away. He began to reach out, the bittersweet syllable of his name at the tip of his tongue, when Rin turned away to say something to his teammates; they were standing too far away for his voice to carry as they walked away without another glance, but foreign, icy claws crawled their way over Makoto’s still limbs as he felt the unforgiving, cold metal closed around him tighter than before.

 

            “Makoto,” Haruka touched the inside of his wrist to get his attention, and the brunet blinked at him, green eyes still glazed with awe.

 

            “Was that—” He didn’t need to finish the question – couldn’t because the name, like grains of grating sand, was caught in his throat – when Haruka nodded.

 

            “Makoto-senpai…” Gou sent him a worried glance, and even as she tried to see where her brother had wandered off to with his band mates, the red-haired girl dragged her gaze back to their leader, a comforting hand on his arm.

 

            “When did Rin come back?” Haruka asked, his tone crisp and cold, and his irises were a sharp blue when they honed in on Gou who couldn’t meet his eyes head on.

 

            She didn’t dare lie – not when Haruka was scrutinizing her the way only he was capable of; there was no point in hiding anyway. “He’s been back for a few months now, studying at Uguisu Academy of Music. I know I should have told you and Makoto-senpai sooner, but onii-chan asked me to keep quiet, so I thought he was going to tell you guys himself. I didn’t think…” She stopped there, unable to keep going when she saw how tightly Haruka was holding the neck of his bass, as if he was throttling the life out of something tangible if given the chance.

 

            “I’m sorry to intrude,” Rei interrupted with a timid voice, a hand nervously pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose, “but who are we talking about?”

 

            “Not important right now,” Haruka decided.

 

            “But Haru-chan…”

 

            “Not now,” the dark-haired boy insisted with quiet assertion, the sternness in his ice blue eyes allowed no room for argument. 

 

            “Why did he just… walk away like that?” Haruka turned to see Makoto’s back hit the closest wall with a heavy thud as the boy leaned heavily against it, his head hanging dejectedly between his shoulders.

 

            “Makoto,” once again, Haruka touched the inside of the taller boy’s wrist carefully, and when that didn’t work, he went right up in front of his best friend, no longer caring about invading Makoto’s personal space, and the remaining three members of Cliff Bird watched in wonder as Haruka placed his hands on both side of the other boy’s cheeks, firmly forcing him to meet his eyes. “Makoto, are you listening?”

 

            He nodded, lost green eyes finally focusing on Haruka’s clear, azure ones.

 

            “It’s no use questioning Rin’s intention at this moment. For now, we need to get on that stage and play our song to the best of our abilities. We will play and we will impress the judges and convince them to let us into the finals. This is all we need to concentrate on, Makoto, all right?” Haruka didn’t mention the fact that they would most likely meet Rin and his band mates again in the finals (if they could get that far), especially knowing that their opponents were from one of the most prestigious music schools in the country; Makoto didn’t need to add that to the list of his worries at the state he was currently in, and Haruka knew that.

 

            “You’re right,” Makoto released a long, shuddering breath and gave him a weak smile, his hands grasping onto Haruka’s and enveloping them in his bigger ones, giving them a light squeeze. “Thanks, Haru.”

 

            “Alright, let’s do this!” Nagisa cheered when Makoto reluctantly let go of Haruka’s hands, and the dark-haired boy merely turned his head to the side without another word.

 

            After that, the adrenaline pumping through their young bodies leading up to the audition was enough to haul their attention back to where it was before the emergence of a certain red-haired boy who had somehow became more of a stranger than either Haruka or Makoto had anticipated.

 

            That had been a week ago.

 

            “Haru?” His voice is still thick with sleep but there’s no hesitation in the way he enunciates his name. “Can’t sleep?”

 

            “Yeah.”

 

            A moment of quiet on both ends; they both know the source of Haruka’s insomnia, and if Makoto’s being honest with himself, it’s been difficult for him to fall asleep for the past few nights as well, but neither of them seems to want to vocally acknowledge it. Maybe they can pretend last Friday didn’t happen; maybe they can pretend their friend is still just that – a friend from afar who can never be reached or touched, someone who is not the almost-stranger whom they met a week ago, who was able to walk away as if they had never met before. They didn’t want to admit it: the coldness of those fiery red eyes hurt more than anything else.

 

            “We’ve been practicing so hard; I feel like I can do the entire song in my sleep.” He chuckles, the sound hollow against the empty darkness of his bedroom. “We’ll be fine tomorrow,” Makoto says softly, knowing well that this is hardly the cause of his friend’s restlessness but he hopes he sounds reassuring nevertheless.

 

            “I know,” Haruka replies and waits.

 

            “Would you like me to sing?” His voice is gentle like the moonlight misting on the glass window.

 

It’s always been this way ever since Haruka can remember. Whenever he couldn’t fall into slumber for whatever reason – whether it was because of illness or stress before an especially important exam – Makoto would sing to him until he fell asleep. Even from a very young age, Makoto had the sweetest voice that could lull him to sleep with tender lullabies or heart-wrenching ballads, broken, forgotten lyrics and melodic humming included. It’s become such a habit that neither of them finds it to be a strange ritual between two teenage boys in high school. More importantly, as long as Haruka still wants him to sing, Makoto will give him his voice even if it means having to suffer lack of sleep and a dry, irritated throat the next morning.

 

            “Will you?”

 

            “Of course,” Makoto answers with a small smile though Haruka cannot see. His eyes slip close as he lets the silence filled with the humming of various noises in his household embrace him; he takes some steady breaths – in, and out, and in – before he opens his mouth.

 

            On the other end of the phone, Haruka feels himself falling deeper and deeper into a calm black, his body surrounded by a sea of sound waves and blocks of broken words, meaningless on their own but comforting in its own way regardless. The ocean is wide and endless, the oscillating waves of pale moonlight caressing his skin with warmth, and a voice that’s at times smooth and silvery and at times raw and hoarse is singing about a man who asks the sky the meaning of life, who rides a star into the outer space, who is determined to shoot down a shooting star.

 

            Haruka wants to be the protagonist of that story – wants to be a stargazer – but he’s too tired, been thinking and doing too much lately, so he leaves that yearning be, and let that dulcet voice carry him into the absolute night.

**Author's Note:**

> The MakoRin was a bit unexpected, but there will be MaRinKa in the future so yay! Also, the song that Makoto sings in the last scene is basically OldCodex’s “Stargazer” – it’s such a pretty song when it’s sung in acoustics.


End file.
